


conquers nothing

by j quadrifrons (Jenavira)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, MAG 129: Submerged, Save Martin Blackwood 2k19, UST, i mean there's kissing but it's still very much tension, unbetad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 13:12:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18099179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenavira/pseuds/j%20quadrifrons
Summary: “I miss you,” Jon says, and that’s painful enough, but Martin only scoffs in response.





	conquers nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something to tide me over while I wait for Jonny Sims to break my heart again this week.

“I miss you,” Jon says, and that’s painful enough, but Martin only scoffs in response. Jon hadn’t imagined a noise like that could cut him in two so easily. He flinches a little, but when Martin pulls back, putting space between them, Jon reaches forward without thinking.

Martin’s arm is firm and warm beneath the soft wool of his jumper, and that is enough for Jon to pull him closer still. Martin stumbles a little, mumbles, “Jon, I can’t,” but he comes willingly enough. Jon hasn’t had anyone this close inside his personal space since - well, no one who’s not trying to kill him, anyway. He swears he can feel Martin’s heartbeat through that one point of contact, through the air thick between them.

“I - I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go. “I can’t do this without you.” He’s not sure what “this” is, other than everything, other than the Institute, the rituals, the thing he’s turning into. He didn’t know the thought before he said it, but it’s the truest thing that’s come out of his mouth in some time. Martin is looking at him, eyes wide, expression unreadable, but there’s still an edge in his voice when he says, “You’ve been doing fine so far.”

Jon’s voice catches in his throat, along with everything else in his head, every feeling he’s had, dulled since the endless nightmare of the coma but sharp now with the horrible gravity between the two of them, here in an abandoned corridor deep in the Institute’s administrative wing. He pulls, and Martin comes along with a noise of protest but no actual resistance. Jon is kissing him before he knows what he is doing, and it is. Very good. Awkward and clumsy, noses in the way and lips mashed up against teeth, Jon is horribly out of practice with this, but it feels right for once. Better, certainly, than begging Martin to hear him and knowing he wasn't listening. 

He can't be sure which one of them that desperate little noise came from, and he doesn't want to know. He’s tired of knowing things. 

Martin shifts slightly, and then the kiss gets even better, soft and wet and warm. Still a chaste kiss, as these things go, but they fit together just right. His hands are in Martin's hair, holding him firmly in place, and Jon feels a jolt as his back hit the wall, Martin's arms around his shoulders cushioning the blow.

Eventually they have to breathe - he’s still human enough to need to breathe, and Jon almost laughs at the thought, the hysteria bubbling up through the space in his chest where Martin pressed against him has eased the tension. He leans his head back against the wall, and Martin tucks his face into his throat, and they stay there for a long moment, breathing. It almost feels like everything might be okay, just for a moment.

Then Martin pulls back a little, looks Jon carefully in the eyes. His expression is closed off again, and Jon’s heart aches to see it. “You know,” Martin says, slowly, as if waiting to be interrupted (and Jon used to do that a lot, didn’t he? His fingers, still in Martin’s hair, tighten a little with a spasm of regret), “I think we might be past the point where love can fix any of this.”

He’s waiting, Jon realizes, to be rejected. It’s a confession, one he’s been holding onto for far too long.

"I don't care," he says, fierce enough he can't tell if it’s the Archivist's compulsion in his voice. "He can't have you. You're mine."

Martin sighs, breath warm on Jon's face. He nuzzles close, kissing Jon again softly, just the gentlest brush of their mouths together, breath mingling, before he pulls away again. “I really have to go,” he says apologetically.

“Right,” Jon says. “Of course.” 

When Martin has disappeared around the corner without even a look back, he spends a long while still leaning against the wall, slowly growing cold and making plans for Peter Lukas.


End file.
